Bottle
by of monsters and me
Summary: "I couldn't face it without a bottle." Some memories are too painful to remember, too gruesome to forget, and too terrifying to cling to. Complete.
1. Dead

_Bottle_

_Summary: The dead are always calling to them._

**Note: **Yes, yes, another story. I know, I know, "Janae, go update your other ones!" I will, I will.

* * *

_1. Dead_

Katniss Everdeen, Mockingjay – my mother, the killer. And what – who – am I? Madge Mellark, daughter of the Victors – the two faces of the rebellion. These are different times, I know, but there are still periods – a couple of days at worst – when both my parents black out.

They recoil into their shells – not cowardly, no, but as if they are prolonging the moment of facing something terrible. I know the Games, the war, has scarred them greatly – how do they bear it? The fact that they have killed many – hundreds, for all I know – of people?

The truth is: they don't.

The dead are always calling to them, whispering, caressing. They don't answer back. I'm not sure they can.


	2. Outfox

_Bottle_

_Summary: You were supposed to win._

**Note: **yeah, this was probably done a million times. Cliché much?

* * *

_2. Outfox_

You were supposed to win. _You_ were – not that Katniss and the boy from Twelve. You were going to win; because you promised your little brother and you're the smartest and not _them_. They didn't deserve the title of Victor. 'Victor' goes to the smartest, the one which uses everything to their advantage – not one of those ruthless killing machines or a love-crazed idiot.

Even from the beginning, you knew it was all a trick. District Twelve wasn't in love – or at least it was a little one-sided. Cato wasn't completely _sane_ – he had anger management problems, to say the least. Rue was a problem, too – a little girl who was practically invisible was certainly a challenge to overcome. The Games are all about how you're perceived, but you can see right through everything they throw at you.

You're from District Five and are only supposed to be good with _livestock _– ugh, the smells those animals can make! – but there wasn't a rule about District Five having a dumb _population_. You've probably fooled them all – _probably _because Katniss, and possibly Cato, were starting to see through your little façade.

No matter. You're dead now anyways.


	3. Alone

_Bottle _

_Summary: He's gone, gone, gone . . . and she doesn't know what happened._

**Note: **make what you will of this. Thanks _Sparks _for the reviews. Please note that this is kind of based off of _Fight Hard, Fall Harder._

* * *

_3. Alone_

_[Don't leave! Don't leave! Don't leave me!]_

She presses her face against the windowsill – wondering; waiting. _(Waiting for someone who will not come – wondering where he is. {She does not have the strength, nor the heart, to watch the Games anymore, so she knows nothing of his fate. Knows not whether he is dead or alive or broken now.})_

_[I can't be alone! Not without you! No!]_

She has to close her eyes, will the visions away, but they are implanted there. Imbedded into the insides of her brain.

_[Please! I love you!]_

She cannot undo what has been done.


	4. Blood

_Bottle_

_Summary: How can you drown in blood without wondering whose it is?_

**Note: **In case you were wondering, I was reading Catching Fire recently – and so we have this . . .

Depressing-ish, is it not?

* * *

_4. Blood_

Water. You rush to get water because you're just so damn _thirsty _and suddenly you're so close to it and it just feels so good, to be rushing on you—

Except it's not water. It's too warm and too metallic-y—

Metallic. Water doesn't taste metallic. No liquid should taste metallic, or even _smell_ metallic—

But blood does. You know this fact all too well, having killed a fair number of innocent people in your short lifetime. You know that blood does, in fact, smell metallic-y. And you know that this _is not _water.

_How many people did they kill_? you wonder, because they _had _to have gotten the blood somehow. And killing _just _animals doesn't feel like the Capitol's way of doing things. They wouldn't be _that_ kind.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if any of this blood was rebel blood.


	5. Dangers

_Bottle_

_Summary: Sometimes the Capitol aren't the only monsters, but the Capitol does breed them._

**Note: **I really do feel sorry for Finnick. Really, I do.

* * *

_5. Lovers and Dangers_

Your l o v e r s range from many things:

Merchants, stylists, Gamemakers

and _V i c t o r s _alike

What do they

have in

_common_?

They tell you all their

dirty little

_s e c r e t s_

xXx

Different faces for each.

Poppy, my dear little

**Peacekeeper**-to-be

Shall get a

_S m i r k_

Mathilda, my wonderful beautiful

newly **w e d**

shall get a shy little

_g r i n_

And you, sweet Lily, you dirty girl from

_F i v e_

how about a infatuated beam, showing my

l o v e?

no appeal? why not try on a spellbound

_g a z e_

let me play your buttons just right

no like?

How about my _d e m o n i c _

s n a r l, love?

still want to buy my b o d y **now?**

xXx

no, no, ladies, he's

**finnick odair,**

don't mess with him,

he'll mess right b a c k.****


	6. Teenage

_Bottle_

_Summary: Don't fall now._

**Note: **yeah, another freeverse. Don't hate.

_6. TeenageVictor_

Adults with their wisdom and [bravery]

children: innocent and hopeful

**[**but, babe, we're evil and **cruel **and heartless**]**

_(_and honey, _innocence _is few_)_

And anyways, who said both weren't

two faced

decaf owt

?

xxx

And there you are, baby, stuck

some**_inbetween_**where

a Victor: so _young _and _pretty_, sweetie;;

not yet an **adult**

**- **but **vicious **and **bloodthirsty **all the same -

no longer a _child_

_- innocence _is gone, but you still have the _f a c e _-

so go ahead and pick

xxx

of course you would be one who cannot d e c i d e

'cause you've

**killed**&&

**cheated**&&

**lied**&&

but also:

_cared_&&

_loved_&&

_**survive**d_&&

xxx

you border sosoclose to the e d g e

don't ::fall:: now

'cause

- if you didn't k n o w -

all Victors wither a w a y

trying to

_**decide**_


	7. Starcrossed

_Bottle_

_Summary: I am eighteen, and I fell in love with my stylist. [Cinna/OC]_

**Note: **Because I feel starved of Cinna, who, in the end, was always on our side.

* * *

_7. Star-crossed_

_For the third Quarter Quell, to remind the rebels that their losses occurred everywhere, the Hunger Games arena's landscape will change every night._

"Bryony Jackson!" I hear my name called in the Capitol accent. I don't like how it sounds – it sounds as though I am fake. It suggests that I will die – just _another_ tribute, dead and lost and untouchable, and oh so forgotten.

I walk up the stage, slowly, steadily, even though I'm trying not to cry. No one volunteers to go up for me, and I don't even hear the boy's name being called. He is Gale something-or-other's brother. I don't want to kill him, and Gale can't volunteer himself. (I wouldn't want to kill Gale either, but I'd want him to win, at least.)

The ride to the Capitol is a blur. This 75th Hunger Games, this Quarter Quell, will be harsh. They say the landscape will change every day. I have Katniss as my mentor, and she's giving me good advice. Better her than Haymitch, anyways. She says I'll be a good victor, but even I know I won't survive. I smile and say thanks and pretend I'm sure I'll win – so, in truth, I just lie. I don't think she buys it.

I wouldn't buy it either.

.

.

.

The first time I meet him is in my quarters. He's gentle and kind, and tells me I'm beautiful already – just not by _Capitol_ standards. But I disagree.

I am not beautiful, with my untamable black hair and blue eyes. It is more like I am some unnamable monstrosity the Capitol would love to dissect. They will break me down to build a whole new me back up. But he makes me beautiful; he makes me a mesmerizing porcelain wonder.

He does the impossible, my stylist – he makes me look my best.

_[And I love(d) him for it.]_

.

.

.

The interview stands out most, to me. Caesar had asked if I had a love, and I said, "I have a crush, yes, but it's too immediate to do anything now." Caesar nods like it's the worst thing in the world – the unrequited love – and asks who it is. I don't answer, just say, "It's . . . it's someone from the Capitol."

This gets the crowd screaming. Literally on their feet screaming. How could I have caused such a riot, and in so little time? (Doesn't matter – I just hope it gets me sponsors.) How can the people of the Capitol _like _this stuff?

It doesn't matter. I don't like it. I'm going to die soon and I'll never love anyone else.

I was only telling the truth.

.

.

.

"You were reckless out there, girl," Katniss says to me. An "I'm sorry" comes from somewhere inside me, though, personally, I don't think it matters anymore. I just don't have the strength. "You should have told me that you were going for that angle. I would've . . . I would've . . . helped."

The idea that Katniss Everdeen, one of the star-crossed lovers, would actually _help _me gives me hope. A small flicker of it, yes, but it's there all right.

_(But like everything in this cruel world, it extinguishes before it even gets a chance to grow.)_

.

.

.

There is sobbing – lots of sobbing – between our little team composed of Victors, Tributes, and, of course, a heartbroken Effie Trinket. We do not sob tears of joy _[there is no such thing here]_, nor tears of unending pain. We weep for the future; there is no hope someone from Twelve will win this year – no hope at all.

I only hope my death is sweet and swift _[suicide, perhaps? my mind whispers]_, though I myself have doubts.

_(The whole time we weep our goodbyes, I think of him and how there is no longer optimism.) _

.

.

.

I wait anxiously for the ride to the Arena. Yes, I should be dreading this moment; awaiting my death should abhor me. However, I feel the exact opposite. Because I will be able to see _him _again. I will be able to see my stylist, who, in doing so little, has made me love him.

"Bryony, dear," the Capitol lady gives a curt nod towards me, "I'm going to put a chip in you. Don't worry, it shouldn't hurt." However, I can hear the quiet, "much," she utters a second later. Ouch; it does hurt. My first taste of physical pain – and I don't like it.

But then _he _is here and suddenly the pain lessens and I'm thinking, _he's made it all better_. And it just feels too good to be true – a mirage of the worst kind, the Capitol kind. Because they have _made _me love one of their own; one of their heartless, malicious own who helps participate in these Games. Who dresses us for slaughter.

Surely this is their last torment to me. Killing my sister from starvation; driving my father mad when my mother died; and now, leaving my father alone while I fall in love with some prancy that I rarely even know. This is idiotic. Apparently, President Snow – or whoever else was in charge of my family's care – likes to play with his food before he eats it.

And play with it he has.

I am finally broken.


	8. Fire

_Bottle_

_Summary: Fire and fire don't mix. [Gale/Katniss, unmentioned Peeta/Katniss] _

**Note: **So, I've noticed, ever since I've been mainly out of commission, my stats have been very low. As in, my "traffic" – the "hits" and whatnot. So, during this summer – spring, sorry – break, I'm going to write more.

* * *

_8. Fire_

You cannot control fire, this Gale Hawthorne knows personally. You can't tell it reassuring words, kiss it two or three times or even be the solace it has been looking for – because you cannot control fire. Katniss Everdeen is fire – burning, shining; a great inferno. Gale could not control her – he could not make her love him, or want him or even _lust _for him.

Fire is some uncontrollable entity that Gale desperately wishes to possess. He has a fire inside him – a fire that is untamable unless there is another half of him willing to get burned – and though every girl near him likes his pretty face, they don't like the real him. Katniss was the only one willing to come to him, and even then it was a couple months before she warmed up to him completely.

Katniss has a fire, and he has a fire – fire plus fire equals disaster. This is why he cannot be with Katniss. He is not _compatible _with her. Since they are both fire, they ignored the wedge that was so imbedded between them for a long time. They ignored the rules of _life_.

He wished they didn't. If you play with fire, you're bound to get burned. Add to the fire, and the burn only becomes worse. _(Burns take a long time to heal.) _Two fires only equal any even stronger one, anyways. That's why you need water and fire together.

But who was to say that they really needed water as well?


	9. Opposing

_Bottle_

_Summary: She was different, and there are consequences._

**Note: **Written a long time ago. I mean, a long time ago. Oh well, right? It's up now.

* * *

_9. Opposing_

Misty Trinket, a little, brown-haired girl who had never been actually _right_. She had always had the full belly, the nice, safe, secluded life – she never _wanted_ that life. She didn't like the Capitol; didn't know what she wanted to be; what she wanted to do; where she wanted to live.

Her older sister knew what _she _wanted to be her whole life – one of those preppy Tribute escorts, because they _get good pay _and _know the Victors for real_. But Misty didn't like Tributes; Victors; the Games; or anything of the sort. Because Misty was _different. (Some say they dropped her head when she was a baby; others that she is really a mutt.)_

Misty was different because she wanted _fairness _and _equal rights _and something like _democracy_. It might have been the plethora of books in the Trinket house, or the reason Misty was so alien was because she had allowed herself to feel.

Even so, Misty Trinket died during the Rebellion along with her fellow Rebels.


End file.
